


cautiously peering, absorbing, translating

by seaworn



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dance, First Kiss, Friendship, Hospitals, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining, Serious Injuries, Swearing, Welcome to the Madness (Yuri!!! on Ice), very loosely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-01 22:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10931757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaworn/pseuds/seaworn
Summary: The website has updated, and the first thing Otabek sees is an embedded video in the front page. It’s an interview made by a local sports magazine. Otabek immediately frowns and goes  ‘huh’ when realisation hits him.Yuri Plisetsky.To be fair, he wouldn’t have remembered the boy’s name, but now that he sees the name on the bottom of the screen, it does ring a bell. And as he looks at that pale, round face, that annoyed frown and those green eyes, he finds it ridiculous that he ever forgot the name in the first place.***For the prompt: "As young kids Otabek gives Yuri a cat necklace, telling him it’s a promise to always protect him. Years later, Otabek breaks his leg when protecting Yuri."





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AU_Queen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AU_Queen/gifts).



> This story is a part of Otayuri Reversebang 2017. The art as well as the prompt were given my by the lovely archester-draws! They did amazing art for me to work on, thank you <3 
> 
> Betaed by the always lovely [watsoff](http://archiveofourown.org/users/watsoff/pseuds/watsoff) <3 !

Otabek holds the fridge-cold glass of water against his forehead. He blinks away drops of sweat threatening to fall into his eyes and lifts the hem of his t-shirt. He grimaces - a part of him is happy to move away just because the AC sucks. But at least he definitely doesn’t need to go to the gym any day soon.

 

With a sigh, he sits cross-legged onto the ground and pulls his laptop into his lap, taking off the cord.  Sitting in an empty apartment feels like a blessing and a curse at the same time - it would be nice to still own a couch - or you know, a _bed -_ but the empty white walls and voices echoing in the unfurnished apartment make it easier to breathe.

 

Otabek has mailed most of his clothes, books and other belongings he didn’t want to sell;  they _should_ be waiting for him in St. Petersburg right about now.

 

The only things he still has are mall enough to carry in his motorbike with him.  A few necessities, laptop, et cetera.

 

It feels good. When has he ever done anything so drastic? This feels like opening a new, white, clean page in a book.

 

Otabek frowns in concentration as he searches now already a familiar website; Lilia Baranovskaya’s Dance Agency. He isn’t that nervous about finding an apartment in St. Petersburg; he’s more nervous about finding a dance studio where to sign up. He has tabs open for at least seven different studios at the moment, and he just can’t decide. Or actually, doesn’t necessarily want to commit to anything yet. But he should at least be sending out some applications. So far, he’s liking this place the most; it represents dancers and promotes them, books them for different jobs. But Otabek’s still not sure.

 

The website has updated, and the first thing Otabek sees is an embedded video in the front page. It’s an interview made by a local sports magazine. Otabek immediately frowns and goes   _huh_ when realisation hits him.

 

Yuri Plisetsky.

 

To be fair, he wouldn’t have remembered the boy’s name, but now that he sees the name on the bottom of the screen, it does ring a bell. And as he looks at that pale, round face, that annoyed frown and those green eyes, he finds it ridiculous that he ever forgot the name in the first place.

 

~

 

_Otabek hates ballet._

 

_That’s for sure._

 

_This is awful. No - beyond awful. Dreadful. He hates this. He -_

 

Otabek stops his train of thought, takes a deep breath. He _closes his eyes and tries to shake his parents’ words from his head. They weren’t mean or anything, but the only reason they promised to send Otabek to this camp, was to get him to stop thinking that dancing was something he actually wanted to do. Or maybe they just thought that Otabek was bad and didn’t want to tell him?_

 

_Otabek sighs and swipes some sweat from his brow. He is going to prove them wrong._

 

_\- He just really doesn’t like doing ballet at all._

 

_Otabek glances around the room. The AC is loud and it does. not. help. Otabek concentrate._

 

_Nor do the ten other boys doing the ballet moves, most of them in perfect sync._

 

_Otabek tries not to pout at the fact that his own body doesn’t seem to cooperate with him._

 

_Mr. Feltsman says that ballet is the basis for every type of dance, and if he can’t get the handle of this, he may just as well forget the whole thing._

 

_“Don’t fall backwards”, a voice says, waking Otabek from his thought. He really shouldn’t be thinking at all right now. Too much thinking ruins the flow of the movement, Otabek_ knows.

 

_The boy in front of him has turned around enough to look at Otabek. He hasn’t stopped doing his plie, though._

 

_“Huh?” Is what Otabek asks._

 

_“You have to keep your back completely straight, tupid. You always forget that. That’s what Yakov is going to yell to you, fix your posture.”_

 

_Otabek flushes and does exactly that, averting his gaze when Mr. Feltsman comes close. He’s been corrected and corrected and corrected today, so Otabek doesn’t dare to breathe._

 

_“There you go, good”, Mr. Feltsman says. Otabek has learned that the less words you got from the man, the better. He was very colourful in his talk when something was wrong, but very simple with his praise. Otabek’s father was the same, so it was fine._

 

_From the corner of his eye, he sees the blond’s mouth twitching up._

 

_And just like that, Otabek gets a new friend. His Russian is not yet very good and that angers the boy, Yuri, but Otabek just replies in Kazakh to make a point, because at least Otabek knows how to talk in his mother tongue, unlike Yuri._

 

_Yuri, opposite to Otabek, knows ballet very well. He swears it’s his first time trying it, but Otabek is not buying the story. It isn’t fair that someone so young (two years younger than Otabek!) would be so in control of their limbs as Yuri is._

 

_Yuri is not shy at all - something Otabek is not used to. He sometimes says something that sounds mean if Otabek stops to think about it, but it’s all right. Yuri doesn’t mean any of that stuff. He’s just observant and sometimes says things aloud without thinking of a nicer way to put things. It’s actually a bit funny._

 

_The summer camp itself turns out to be more fun than Otabek thought. He expected to become a better dancer, not to make a friend, so he’s pleasantly surprised._

 

_Yuri helps Otabek with ballet. Otabek should probably feel a little bit funny that someone younger than him is giving him tips, but he doesn't. Yuri is both more mature than his age - smart, opinionated and good at dancing. He's also loud and loses his temper easily, but that's fine, too. He’s said he’s going to be a professional dancer some day, and Otabek believes him._

 

_Otabek helps Yuri, too. He's too reckless for his own good and has already had a splinter in his thumb and scrapes on his ankle. He got a burn from the hardwood floor from sliding his knees along it when he tried to demonstrate something to Otabek. Otabek knows how to treat burns, so he helps Yuri to clean it and put some cream on it. He also took the splinter from Yuri’s thumb off and didn’t even make Yuri_ cry _, so he's very proud of his first-aid skills._

  


_All things come to an end, though, and  so does the camp. When they have some free time, Otabek ventures into the shops nearby. He wants to tell Yuri how fun his company has been, but he wants to do it_ well _, and he remembers that his mother once told him that it’s polite to give something to people he thinks are nice. Otabek also remembers that she clarified that a hug or a card he’d made himself is a good way to do it, but since Otabek doesn’t want to hug just anyone and sucks at crafts, this is what he comes up with._

 

_He buys a necklace. He thinks it’s nice. It’s heart-shaped and it has a picture of a kitten inside the heart. Otabek knows Yuri likes cats because he told Otabek he’s going to get one when he’s older. Otabek hopes he does, and maybe then Otabek could visit Yuri and his cat. (Otabek can’t get a cat_ or _a dog because his mother is allergic.)_

 

_“To protect you”, Otabek clarifies when he gives Yuri the locket. “You scrape yourself up too often.”_

 

_Yuri smiles and says that no-one has ever given him such a nice gift before. He demands Otabek help him put it on him and declares that when he gets a cat, he wants it to look like the one inside the locket, so Otabek guesses that he likes it._

 

~

 

Otabek blinks. He remembers that he returned to Kazakhstan and Yuri stayed in Russia. They never talked after that. It’s hard to stay in touch when you’re both kids, Otabek supposes. He remembers that he was _so_ happy to show his parents what he learned at that camp and how hard he tried to make them sign him up for dance lessons. Contacting Yuri just slipped his mind.

 

He stares at the screen, the interview paused to Yuri Plisetsky’s face, and feels a bit like he’s thrown back ten years in life. Wow. He hasn’t even thought about the boy since that summer.

But it looks like he’s doing well. The interviewer talked about Yuri’s success in ballet and modern dance, seemingly very impressed about Yuri’s success and the fact that his calendar is booked with different job gigs for months.

 

The boy wasn’t kidding. He got what he wanted, because now he was  professional dancer - and a good one too, by the looks of things.

 

On the screen, Yuri Plisetsky brushes a few hairs from his forehead and gives a tight but genuine smile to the interviewer when she makes a comment about his performance in some local opera.

 

“Okay; one last question; I’ve seen a few of your fans have been asking around the internet. You’re always keeping a necklace around your neck. What is that?”

 

Yuri looks taken aback before his posture changes to something more relaxed. Maybe he expected a more personal question. He takes the necklace from under his shirt and lifts it a little, looking at it himself.

 

“It’s a cat. I - well - I’m not superstitious, but I’ve had it since I was a kid and I’ve taken it with me to every competition and dance assignment and things have gone well this far, so  why risk my good luck?” He gives a small smile, cheeks blushing a little bit. His fingers touch the locket around his neck.

 

Huh, Otabek thinks. Huh.

 

This is a sign. This has to be a sign, right? That summer camp ten years ago was what basically started his career. He remembers how Plisetsky’s determination and skills haunted him for months after the camp, but in a very positive way. He had clear goals for his life despite being so young, and it was inspirational, somehow.

 

Otabek sends in his application to the Dance Agency with as much reference videos he has of himself.

  


**

 

Yuri is in a grouchy mood. He doesn’t know why; that’s just what Mondays feel like to him.

 

He scrunches up his nose as he sees Viktor and Yuuri walking before him in the hallway. Viktor has his palm resting on Yuuri’s ass. Yuri swears the man fried his last remaining brain cells when he saw Yuuri Katsuki (Yuuri “Eros” Katsuki) perform for the first time. He’s obsessed with Yuuri and his behind - it isn’t even healthy anymore. Their whole history together is ridiculous. Viktor dumped his entire life in the trash when he got a surprise boner for Katsuki and then _left for Japan to find the man_. He started coaching and choreographing Yuuri’s programs on the spot.  Yuri hates to admit it, but Viktor’s programs now, with Yuuri as his muse are the best they’ve ever been.

 

It’s disgusting, though. They’re so gross together. And not in the cute way, but in a _gross_ gross way. They made the whole internet explode with their first performance together. It was - nicely put - dry-humping on stage. Except that at the same time they looked at each other like they were in the altar, ready to say _I do._ Ugh.

 

Yuri couldn’t hate the idiots even if he wanted to. He makes an ugly face, though, when Viktor squeezes Yuuri’s ass, making Yuuri giggle and bump his hip against Viktor’s.

 

“Hello, the only two people in the world”, Yuri says, loudly enough to end the public groping before it’s going to escalate.

 

The older men turn around, both wearing the same goofy smile on their faces.

 

“Oh, good morning, Yurio”, Viktor greets and Yuri doesn’t even try to correct that it’s not his name. It’s hopeless. “We’re just heading to the ballet studio. We’re working on our flexibility together”, he states cheerily.

 

“Cool. Don’t do anything gross or Lilia’s gonna kick you both out”, Yuri says.

 

“Yuri! We wouldn’t do that!” Yuuri insists, but he blushes enough to blow their bluff.

 

“Yeah, whatever. Just lock the door, alright?” Yuri sighs.

 

“Will do”, Yuuri promises and Viktor coos at his blushing before turning to Yuri.

 

“So, how’s your new choreography coming together? Lilia’s event is in a month, isn’t it?” He asks.

 

Yuri shrugs. “I can’t remember the date. It’s going okay.” He’s not very enthusiastic about the subject. He doesn’t like his current choreography, but he’s already started several arguments with both Yakov and Lilia to change it, but they didn’t budge. They both said that every choreography made for him is a very thought-out process that focuses on his strengths and highlights his talents.

 

It’s all true, but that doesn’t mean that Yuri isn’t bored to death dancing to these slow, melancholic songs that are supposed to be dramatic. Even Viktor couldn’t help him with that. He does all these crazy, not safe for work choreographies for his husband but refuses to help Yuri, even though Yuri is now officially an adult.

 

Viktor is about to say something else, but Yuri just heads toward the staircase, sprinting up and lifting his knees as high as he can to stretch himself.

 

The room he does his private practise in is in the fifth floor, so by the time he gets up, he’s already panting a little, heart-rate rising and temperature rising. He gets suspicious the second he sees the door to his room slightly open. On Mondays and Thursdays he practises without coaching or classes, so it’s not possible that Lilia or Yakov are there.

 

He peeks into the room, only to find a boy there. He’s crouched in the corner that holds a small stereo equipment, back to Yuri. He doesn’t look familiar, but Yuri’s not spooked by it. Only a little irritated. It’s not the first time he found out he was assigned a partner to a performance together by having them wait for Yuri in the room with no heads-up whatsoever.

 

Yuri’s irritated and suspicious because the boy looks exactly what his previous partners looked like. A little bit taller, stockier and dark. He always gets partners like that because so many clients want them to accentuate Yuri’s fair, blond, ethereal looks, and Yuri hates the whole concept.

 

“Who are you?”

 

The boy turns around, the movement revealing that his hair is shorter on the sides than it’s at the top of his head, black hair swishing and covering his eyes. With hasty fingers, the boy pushes his hair from his face and ties it in a small bun on top of his head.

 

“Hello”, he says with a small wave. “Your stereo didn’t work, so I thought…” He trails off and gestures towards the out-of-date stereo in the corner.

 

Yuri shrugs. “I don’t use it, but thanks.”  

 

“I’m Otabek”, the boy offers, and Yuri nods.  

 

“Yuri”, he says. “What are you doing here?”

 

The boy - Otabek - looks a bit taken aback, but, well, what’s Yuri supposed to ask him other than that?

 

“Are you my new partner?” Yuri clarifies when Otabek doesn’t immediately answer.

 

“Me? No. I just got here from, um, Kazakhstan”, Otabek explains.

 

At that, Yuri realises that Otabek’s accent does sound a little funny. His pronunciation is off, but not it a way that means he isn’t fluent in Russian. It’s just a little richer, the stress of his words in the wrong place. It’s not wholly unpleasant. Actually, Yuri could potentially see the appeal in accents, now. Viktor always babbles on about how sexy Yuuri is when he’s speaking Russian, and Yuri always shrugs him off because 1) he doesn’t _want to know_ what Viktor thinks is sexy, 2) Russian isn’t a pretty language in his mind. But it does sound a little enchanting when Otabek is speaking it.

 

“Kazakhstan?” Yuri asks.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Yuri’s never been good at small talk, but this is just plain bullshit. Otabek is even more quiet and less small-talky than Yuri, so that means a lot of quiet and awkwardness, apparently.

 

“You’re in my room”, Yuri says instead, not finding anything else to say. After all, he was supposed to rehearse.

 

“Oh?” The boy raised his brows, not seeming embarrassed. “Mrs. Baranovskaya told me that most of the rooms in floor five are usually free, so I just picked one. Looks like I picked well.”

 

“Um?”

 

“Well, you’re the first person I’ve seen in this building besides her and - well”, Otabek says and shrugs his shoulder like it’s enough of an explanation.

 

“Alright-y”, Yuri replies and manages not to roll his eyes at himself, but barely. Since when does he say _alright-y_? He clears his throat. “So, are you going to stay here?”

 

Otabek smiles and Yuri has a hard time pinpointing what kind of a smile it is. “I’ve finished.”

 

“At 8 am?” Yuri has to raise his brows. He thought _he_ was diligent when he dragged his ass here before 9 am most days.

 

“I arrived pretty early, so. Plus, I can’t check in to my hotel yet, so I decided to come here first, get familiar.”

 

Now that he looks closer, Yuri sees that, underneath the hoodie Otabek is wearing, there’s a darker patch of sweat on his t-shirt, around his pecs and chest. He doesn’t look out of breath or anything - his cheeks aren’t even red. Yuri envies that, because he’s usually as red as a tomato after work-out. It’s got nothing to do with his stamina, it just happens.

 

“There are showers on the 2nd floor, if you want to go” , Yuri says helpfully, trying hard not to think why thinking about showers and this weird, dark stranger are making his stomach flutter with butterflies.

 

“Thank you”, Otabek says and tilts his head.

 

Yuri, usually thanking the Lord if someone doesn’t try to make small talk with him, feels uncomfortable and puts his gym bag on the floor.

 

Otabek looks at him with a weird look Yuri can’t quite decipher. It’s amused and a bit too warm for someone who’s only just met Yuri.

 

Otabek clears his throat and tilts his head to the side, managing to look like a puppy, somehow.

 

“So, are you gonna be friends with me or not?”

 


	2. chapter 2

Yuri knows he should have ordered their drinks but told the barista to bring them to the table in, like, 15 minutes. Because Otabek is  _ always _ late and his coffee is cooling down.

 

It’s funny, actually, how much he has learned about Otabek in just a few weeks. That he already can say with certainty that Otabek is always, on average, 11 minutes late. In Yuri’s defence, they have been spending a lot of time together since, well, the moment they  _ met _ . 

 

Yuri’s getting more bored by the second. He takes his phone from his pocket and switches between apps for a few minutes, finding nothing of interest and opens a message thread between him and Mila. He scrolls the conversation back a few weeks and starts reading. 

 

<yuri.p> sooo this boy was in my studio and he asked me to be his friend and then asked me for a coffee

 

<yuri.p> i mean

 

<yuri.p> he just moved here and he doesnt know any places, so thats why 

 

<yuri.p> anyway my point was he’s my childhood friend whom i didn’t remember existed until he said it 

 

<Mila.Bby> YURI oh my god??? 

 

<Mila.Bby> is he hot? what does he look like?? is he a dancer too?? where did he move here??  whats his name?? why didnt you tell me you had a friend?? 

 

<yuri.p> yes,  v v v nice, yes,  kazakhstan, otabek, and that’s cool mila, but i knew him like when i was 7 or smth.

 

After those messages, Yuri ran into Yakov, who kept babbling at him about his practise schedules for twenty minutes straight, and Yuri couldn’t answer Mila’s flood of text messages until much later. When Yuri saw the messages, eventually, he was surprised at her FBI skills and a little worried that she knew more about Otabek than Yuri did, just by googling him. 

 

<Mila.Bby> is he otabek altin

 

<Mila.Bby> come on answer me 

 

<Mila.Bby> wait nvm  i did a small search, hes gotta be 

 

<Mila.Bby> i hope so bc if he is then BOY UR GONE 

 

<Mila.Bby> serious bad boy vibes 

 

<Mila.Bby> here let me 

 

<Mila.Bby> 1) motorcycle 2) leather jacket like 24/7 3) DAT ASS 4) that pout ughhh 5) dude his dance moves?? I mean ahhh dont look at them in public lol 

 

<Mila.Bby> wow if he’s some different otabek i’ll be so disappointed lol 

 

<Mila.Bby> please tell me this is him

 

<Mila.Bby> <<<altin-dancingwithstars.jpg>>>

 

Yuri focuses on the picture Mila sent back then. He remembers his heart doing an odd flip at the picture, and it does it again, because the picture is  _ gorgeous _ . It’s definitely taken by professional equipment of some sort, because despite that it was taken in the middle of a moment, it’s very sharp and well- lit. Yuri appreciates these kind of pictures, always has. Especially when they’re starring someone as gorgeous as Otabek. His jawline’s  _ made _ for photography.  Otabek is dancing with someone, but you can’t see his partner’s face. Yuri suspects ballroom dancing of some sort, because Yuri can see his shoulders and that he’s wearing a tuxedo or something, broad shoulders covered in black, expensive fabric. His hair is slicked back, and that looks  _ amazing _ with that undercut. He’s keeping his head up, making his throat look long and graceful.

 

Otabek is  _ gorgeous _ .

 

<yuri.p> yep that’s him

 

<Mila.Bby> lucky!!! Im so jealous jfc 

 

<yuri.p> youre gay, mila 

 

<Mila.Bby> doesnt mean i cant appreciate his hotness levels tho 

 

<yuri.p> right. how did you even find him?? 

 

<Mila.Bby> that was eeeezy my child, i just looked up otabek with a bunch of dance vocabulary and hoped that there would be not that many otabeks in the dancing world

 

<Mila.Bby> turns out there arent 

 

<Mila.Bby> and turns out this otabek altin is like super popular in kazakhstan 

 

<Mila.Bby> u hit the goddamn jackpot 

 

<yuri.p> i havent hit anything! we’re just going for a coffee! stop that 

 

<Mila.Bby>  oohh ask him why he left almaty?? some fans have caught up on that lmao and they are freaking out  bc he hasnt said anything?? 

 

<Mila.Bby> also here’s his instagram in case u want to stalk him a lil 

 

<Mila.Bby> <<link: otabek-altin>>

 

Yuri stalked him, alright. Just because he was extremely intrigued by the boy he’d known, briefly, when they were just kids. Otabek’s career was interesting, too - it was clear that he’d worked hard to get to the point where he was now. Yuri doesn’t want to admit that he’s some weird stalker, but he did watch the tv shows where Otabek was included. Otabek first applied to So You Think You Can Dance at 17,  where he got a lot of fans - not surprising, really. Otabek was (and still is) incredibly good-looking while dancing, but especially after performances, a little out of breath and black hair plastered on his forehead while listening to what the judges had to say. Otabek didn’t win the show, but he managed to make himself known a little, and because of his broad knowledge of different dance styles, he got to Dancing With The Stars as one of the teachers who taught the celebrities. Didn’t win that one either, but he seemed to be the viewers’ favourite, once again. There’s something fascinating about his modest presence, the effortless-looking dancing, the shy smiles and bad boy looks. 

 

Yuri’s incredibly proud of him. He doesn’t exactly have the permission to be because they’ve just met, technically, but he is anyway. Otabek’s just as determined as he was at that summer camp years ago. Of course they’ve both changed a lot, but Yuri’s pleasantly surprised to find that  Otabek’s personality traits haven’t gone anywhere. 

 

Yuri touches the side of Otabek’s coffee cup to see if it’s still warm. He almost wants to dip his finger in it just because he’s feeling petty. He leans back in his seat and cradles his own cup between his hands with a sigh.

 

Yuri wonders whether Otabek has looked him up, too. Otabek admitted Yuri that he made the decision to apply to Lilia’s dance agency because he saw Yuri’s interview. Otabek said that he didn’t even remember Yuri before it, but that the memories came back to him just like that, and he saw it as a sign.

 

Yuri’s mouth twitched up. Otabek was a silly boy, to be honest. A lot more than his stoic public persona. He drank ridiculous coffees, for one, and he actually  _ melted _ when he saw a cute dog or a cat on the street. He also seemed to genuinely think that sometimes universe was trying to tell him something. Yuri didn’t buy that, but he wasn’t going to shit on Otabek’s beliefs. 

 

Yuri sees Otabek’s career as a linear line , now being able to connect the dots between his childhood and this moment. Dancing lessons as a child - school - getting a degree in modern dance - becoming a proper, professional dancer. Does Otabek see Yuri’s career similarly? He has to ask, someday. Does he see Yuri’s determined dreams as a child that got him straight to The Academy of Russian Ballet and into the theatre business, creating his flawless image of a prima ballerina.

 

Yuri sees his own life as two different paths; The one’s he’s walking on and the one he wants to walk on. He’s felt lost for a few years already, which feels stupid since he’s barely 20 years old. But that’s just how it is. He’s tried to steer himself away from ballet, but… It’s harder than he thought.

 

Yuri still thinks that their reunion was a funny coincidence. They didn’t play active role in each other’s lives, but they still have had some impact on one another. Otabek mentioned being impressed with Yuri’s determination, and Yuri - well. 

 

Yuri didn’t remember Otabek, exactly, but he had the necklace. As a child, he actually saw it as a good luck charm so he took it with him to his first competitions and auditions. That’s bullshit, he knows that know, but the habit stuck. He’s used to the warm, familiar weight of it against his chest. Yuri’s fingers touch the place where it’s now, too, against his collarbones, under the collar of his shirt. 

 

Yuri is roused from his thought when Otabek  _ finally _ sits down opposite of him, with windswept hair and flushed cheeks. 

 

“Sorry, late again”, he says but doesn’t offer any excuse. 

 

Yuri huffs and pushes Otabek’s coffee closer to him.

 

“There you go. Salted caramel, double shot espresso latte with vanilla and cream. It’s probably not hot anymore, since I ordered them  _ when I came here on time _ ”, Yuri says pointedly. 

 

“Mm”, Otabek hums as a reply as he inhales his drink. He’s probably not even hearing what Yuri’s saying - when he gets his coffee, it’s a sacred moment of quiet and he seems to forget the world exists. Really, the boy is a caffeine addict and Yuri shouldn’t indulge him. 

 

“I had to read your order from my phone because there’s no way I could’ve remembered it, asshole. Why do you insist on drinking those?” Yuri says again as he takes a swig from his own drink. Black coffee, no sugar. 

 

Otabek gives him an amused smile. “You should try this, you’d understand then.”

 

“No thanks, even the smell is nauseating”, Yuri answers him, but he’s smiling a little, too. Otabek gives him an amused look over the rim of his coffee cup before focusing to the task at hand.

 

Yuri likes these moments. He’s never exactly had a friend like this before. He has Mila, of course, as well as Viktor and Yuuri. He considers Lilia and Yakov pretty close too, even though they’re technically Yuri’s coaches (Yakov officially, Lilia unofficially). But Otabek’s energy is a lot different from anyone else Yuri’s met. He isn’t compelled to talk all the time with the boy, so therefore he isn’t as tired as he usually is after social obligations.  Otabek isn’t bothered by silences, so neither is Yuri. Just the other night, they spent time at Yuri’s. Yuri went through his social media feed (he actually needed to put that time in his schedule; while he was always puttering around Snapchat and Instagram, he did a lot of unofficial promotion work to attract clients, so he answered questions in Instagram, Facebook and Youtube) while Otabek did….Whatever. He played with Yuri’s cat Boris (he found it funny that the cat looked precisely like in the locket he gave Yuri all those years ago), answered a few text by sending out audio messages (he sounded even more monotonic and bored when he was talking in Kazakh, but somehow Yuri found it pretty hot) , watched tv and barely paid any attention to Yuri. But it was good. It  _ is  _ good.

 

Like now. Yuri is watching Otabek drink coffee, and Otabek is watching out the window. To everyone else paying attention to them, the situation might look awkward, but it’s anything but. Yuri feels at ease.

 

And he doesn’t mind the silences or when Otabek doesn’t concentrate on him, because that way Yuri can admire Otabek.

 

He might be crushing on the boy a little bit. 

 

Fuck. 

 

It’s difficult, isn’t it? They’re childhood friends. Only briefly, mind you, but still. It somehow changes where they stand. Yuri doesn’t know how to express that he  _ likes _ likes Otabek. Especially when Otabek doesn’t act at all like he fancies Yuri. He barely even looks at Yuri. 

 

It’s a bit annoying, to be honest. Because Yuri wants Otabek to look at him.

 

Otabek runs his fingers through his hair (long, wavy, black, shaved from the left side and flipped elegantly to the right) like it’s  _ no big deal _ and blows into that ridiculous, diabetes-inducing drink.

 

“So. Have you settled down to your new place yet?” Yuri asks to distract himself from Otabek’s looks. Otabek has found a place he’s currently renting. It’s a very generic one-room apartment that’s half-furnished. 

 

“Mm, not exactly. It’s not that nice, you know? I’ll look for another place when I have the time”, Otabek shrugs. 

 

Yuri frowns internally at this. While Yuri already considers them as friends, he hasn’t yet gotten the hang of Otabek’s behaviour. He doesn’t seem to care much about where he lives, he  _ barely _ talks about his life in Kazakhstan and he doesn’t have the weird, intense energy everyone at the dance agency has. Also, he still hasn’t posted any pictures or told that he’s moved to Russia. Alright, not everyone posts every little thing about their life into their social media channels, but....One would think that moving to another country would be something to give an update about? Especially considering Otabek’s career. Yuri thought he’d at least make a “currently situated in St. Petersburg, hit me up” post to attract job offers. Of course, since Otabek is in Lilia’s care, Yuri knows Lilia will do most of the promo work and recommend Otabek to jobs she sees he’ll fit, but...  

 

“Well, you’re at my house most of the time anyway”, Yuri smiles instead. He doesn’t want to pry if Otabek doesn’t want to tell. 

 

“Yeah. Sorry, does it bother you?” 

 

Yuri is quick to shake his head. “Of course not. Boris likes you more than me, anyway.”

 

Otabek grins, and Yuri’s heart stumbles a little bit. “I like him.”

 

Yuri feels a little all over the place when he’s at the receiving end of that grin and he can’t stop himself from asking: “More than me?” 

 

He doesn’t mean to flirt,  _ he doesn’t _ . Otabek just, christ - he makes it so hard. He’s all pout and serious face, but then he suddenly jokes and smiles  _ like that _ . Yuri’s never prepared for it. 

 

“Well”, Otabek says, dimples decorating his face. “ _ He _ doesn’t steal the mushrooms in my pizza or put his tiny paw under my bum to warm them up.”

 

“I don’t care about mushrooms and I can’t help it that my toes are always cold”, Yuri huffs back.

 

He almost chokes on his coffee when the tip of Otabek’s boot touches his ankle, the bare skin between his shoe and his jeans. The edge of the boot is scratchy, and Yuri shivers.  It’s so  _ suggestive _ , it’s, fuck -

 

“Wear wool socks then”, the Kazakh quips and Yuri  huffs, his fluster disappearing just like that. 

 

Otabek is an absolute asshole and Yuri can’t  _ believe _ he’s falling for him. 

 


	3. chapter 3

“Jesus christ.” 

 

Yuri can’t even slap Mila in the arm to shut her up, he’s too busy agreeing with her. 

 

There isn’t enough air in the room, to be honest. That’s why Yuri’s feeling so light-headed, right?

 

Helplessly, he leans against the wall with Mila. They’re both watching Otabek dance in front ot the huge, wall-sized mirrors of the studio. He’s wearing headphones instead of blasting the music through bluetooth speakers like Yuri usually does. It doesn’t matter, because Yuri can  _ feel _ the music when he watches Otabek. He’s precise, so fucking precise that it makes Yuri’s eyes water. What he’s doing is a mix of silky smooth moves that remind Yuri of some of his own choreographies, and amazingly pedantic, intentional hip hop moves. It’s all edges and charm and fluid movement as well as a good portion of him moving his hips forward in a confident manner,  and Yuri blushes. 

 

He’s seen Otabek practice a lot during these weeks and he hasn’t yet gotten used to the sight of him. He’s full of contradictions, isn’t he? He’s all impassiveness himself when you glance at him, but then he dances and something in him gets  _ loose _ . It’s beautiful. It’s powerful. 

 

“Yuri, stop drooling”, Mila teases him, and Yuri blinks and turns his head to Mila. He tries to think of something witty to say back to her, but can’t think of anything while seeing Otabek in his peripheral vision. 

 

“Oh, wow”, Mila summarises and fucking  _ slaps _ Yuri. “Seriously, get it together.”

 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about”, Yuri sniffs and tightens his ponytail. The effort it takes to change his position so that his back is to Otabek is enormous. “Can you, like, leave and go Skype with your girlfriend or something?”

 

“Can  _ you _ do something about your crush on him?” Mila asks him pointedly, with a face that says “or I’ll do it for you.”

 

“We’re friends, Mila”, Yuri says but he knows it’s not an excuse. It does make things more difficult, though. Because a part of Yuri is thrilled to have a friend, someone who he can play videogames with and talk or  _ not _ talk and someone who likes Boris, too, and - 

 

“Oh, Yuri”, Mila tuts at him. “Figure it out, okay? Anyone would be a fool to turn down a date with you.” 

 

Yuri doesn’t quite believe her, and he shrugs. “Maybe after Lilia’s event”, he mumbles and wants to punch himself, because he doesn’t want to bring that up. The fact that it’s almost here is making him more annoyed and restless than ever. Mila is giving him a strange look, but Yuri  _ knows _ she knows what Yuri’s problem is. Mila might think Yuri is selfish for whining about getting lots of work offers whenever Yuri auditions anywhere, but they are the wrong kind of offers. Yuri doesn’t want to do ballet anymore, period. End.  точка. Don’t get him wrong, he  _ loves _ the art, he just - feels being held down, somehow. He can express himself through his music, but he doesn’t like his public image or his dancer profile. He can do so much more, he  _ could do so much more _ .

 

“Right. That’s tomorrow, isn’t it?” Mila muses, but doesn’t at least press on about Otabek.

 

“Yes. Wait, you’re not coming?” Yuri asks, confused. Mila shrugs a shoulder and flashed him a dazzling smile. 

 

“No. Got a last-minute job for tomorrow”, she says, and Yuri’s happy for her. “It’s nothing big, just a small advertisement campaign, a few in-motion photos with this sort of good-looking Swiss dude…” 

 

“Mila!” Yuri gasps. “That’s fucking amazing!” 

 

Mila grins and looks a little flustered. “I’m excited too”, she admits. “I’m sorry I can’t help you with finishing up your performance, though.” 

 

Mila’s usually the person who Yuri runs his performances through before auditions. Yuri needs someone other than his coach(es) commenting on his work and Mila is always very supportive. Plus, she does Yuri’s hair.

 

“I’ll help Yuri”, a voice says behind Yuri, and Yuri freezes. He turns around and faces Otabek who’s, apparently, finished. He’s covered in sweat but other than that, he looks fine. 

 

Yuri doesn’t know whether he should apologise for not watching right to the end, or apologise for watching super intently (and sort of swooning over) for the first half of his practise. 

 

“That’s great! Thanks, Otabek”, Mila says next to Yuri, the life saviour that she is. “Yuri appreciates it.” 

 

Yuri nods and somehow gets himself together, even though the droplets of sweat running from Otabek’s neck to his chest are making it really hard. “That’d be great. And you’re performing too, so we can help each other out”, he manages to say. 

 

“That’s fine, I think that was my final rehearsal”, Otabek shrugs a shoulder, and Yuri almost frowns.

 

There it was again. The  _ ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ _ kind of dismissive attitude. Was Otabek actually just that chill with everything or was he holding something back? Sometimes Yuri felt like Otabek didn’t tell him everything. He was a very private person, but they’ve become pretty close, haven’t they? 

 

“If you’re sure”, Yuri nods, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He must imagine Otabek’s eyes flicking from his eyes for a bit. 

 

“I am”, Otabek assures, and Yuri could probably continue this conversation by replying “good”, to which Otabek would say “yeah, it is” and Yuri couldn’t quite hide his fluster, so instead he turns to Mila and says: 

 

“See? I’m in good hands.” 

 

Mila glances at Otabek with that trademark mischievous smile of hers. “Oh, I don’t doubt it.” 

 

Yuri wants to kick her. 

 

**

 

<yuri.p> he promised to do a choreography for me?? 

 

<Mila.Bby> viktor?

 

<yuri.p> lol no. otabek 

 

<Mila.Bby> hes a choreographer? 

 

<yuri.p> no but he’s choreographed before

 

<yuri.p> after he left the studio, we went for lunch and i sort of bitched about hating the things i do now and he flat out offered to help me?? 

 

<yuri.p> anyway 

 

<yuri.p> i’ll perform it tomorrow at the event

 

<Mila.Bby> tmrw? yuri that’s not wise! you know how many headhunters there’ll be?? you 

cant change your program so late

 

<yuri.p> shutting down my phone now. otabek & i are gonna practice 

 

<Mila.Bb> youre both crazy

  
  


“Okay, how are we gonna do this?” Yuri asks matter-of-factly as he closes his phone. There’s no point starting an argument with Mila; Yuri’s not going to change his mind.  He stretches his hands above his head. He’s ready, so ready. Fuck that boring-ass choreography, he’s so ready for something else.

 

Otabek gives him a sidelong glance and sits down with his laptop. At lunch, Otabek suggested that Yuri could just perform something else, reasoning that while it was probably going to make both Lilia and Yakov mad, they weren’t the ones who gave the job offers, right? Yuri’s got nothing to lose - except boring jobs. Yuri, excited and nervous, agreed. They went and got Otabek’s laptop from his apartment because Otabek insisted that he’s going to need it. 

 

“Tell me a song you want to dance to, then get us coffee”, Otabek says. 

 

Yuri lifts his brows, looking sceptical. “Shouldn’t we be like, choreographing right away?” 

 

Otabek reflects his look with one elegant brow up. “Pick a song and I’ll make it better for you.” 

 

Yuri is silently impressed by Otabek’s confidence.

 

“Fine.  _ Welcome to the madness _ ”, Yuri replies. 

 

“I don’t know that one”, Otabek mumbles as he’s already writing something on his computer. “Coffee, please.”

 

Yuri rolls his eyes and, with a final look towards Otabek, goes to find the coffee-machine on the second floor. There isn’t anything even resembling chai latte available, so Yuri picks some sort of chocolate mocha thingie for Otabek and a plain black coffee for himself. 

 

He didn’t have to hesitate which song he wants. He likes the song, all right, but most of all it’s  _ surprising _ . Definitely very contrary and nothing he’s ever done before - that’s exactly what he wants.

 

Whether he fails or succeeds, it’s going to steer him away from his pristine prima-ballerina image. It’s perfect. 

 

It feels like Otabek came into his life just at the right moment.

 

When he returns to the fifth floor with their coffees, he hears a distant beat coming from the room Otabek’s occupied in. Yuri frowns for a bit, because the beat sounds familiar, but he doesn’t know what it is.

 

Otabek’s in full geek mode. He’s sitting on the floor with his Macbook, phone next to him and the bluetooth speaker a little further. The beat sounded a little off, like the speaker cord wasn’t attached properly - if it had one.

 

“What’s that?” Yuri asks as he hands Otabek his drink. Otabek makes a hilarious face when he tastes the thing, but then shrugs, probably realising that not all coffees can be like those pretentious hipster drinks he prefers.

 

“That’s your song”, Otabek says.

 

“My what?” 

 

“The song, your song. Welcome to the madness.” 

 

“That’s not it.”

 

“It is, look -” Otabek turns his laptop towards Yuri. “I’ve separated the different elements of the song. This is something I’ve done with my own choreographies. You’ve said you like my style, right?”

 

Yuri nods. 

 

“Well, this is what I do. I create the choreography to match the beat - drum beat, mostly -, polish every movement to be in perfect sync with the  _ thump _ .”

 

Yuri nods again, expectantly. 

 

“After I have a choreography, I turn on everything else but the drum beat - the melody. And then I find the fluidity of movement through the piano, strings, guitars, whatever the song has, basically. I differentiate between those two ways, and in the end combine them. Usually it works.”

 

Yuri has to raise his brows at that. “That’s actually...Quite mad? Does it work, dissecting a song like that?”

 

Otabek fixes his deep brown, gorgeous eyes to him. “You’ve seen me dance, why don’t you tell me?”

 

Yuri’s heart makes an odd flip, and he averts his gaze. Instead of answering, he takes a deep breath and walks to the center of the room.  

“Tell me where to start.”


	4. chapter 4

Yuri thinks he should be nervous, but he isn’t. Okay, well - his chest is pounding a little and he feels jittery, but he’s not nervous in a fearful way, which is everything he would’ve hoped for. 

 

He and Otabek stayed up all night practising. They didn’t necessarily need to; Yuri’s pretty good at improvising so it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he forgets something, but they get lost in the flow of it. First, Otabek made them listen to the song for five times straight before they started planning different moves they wanted to have in it. Otabek’s the first person who’s actually listened to what Yuri wanted to do. He let Yuri try some things and say no to them, and let Yuri suggest things himself. They drank coffee and energy drinks to get through, and Yuri knows it’s not very healthy. But he’s in a very good headspace right now. It’s going to look amazing, he knows.

 

Lilia’s Dance Agency is pretty popular, so Yuri suspects there will be at least a few well-known headhunters. It’s not a competition, per se, but a handful of dancers from other dance agencies and dance schools are here too - Lilia is known for planning these kind of events, so while sometimes job offers slip right through their fingers to some other agency, the publicity gotten from arranging these is worth the trouble.

 

It’s almost Yuri’s turn. He’s wearing a hoodie underneath his performance clothes because he doesn’t want to alarm anyone yet. Otabek promised to make sure that Yuri’s music is changed to the new one without any hassle.

 

Yuri peers through the curtains of the stage to look at the crowd. He sees Viktor and Yuuri, Lilia and Yakov in the crowd, sitting at the back. Otabek is on the side of the room, standing near the exit. 

 

Otabek notices Yuri just before the announcer says Yuri’s name, and he fucking winks at him. Yuri’s heart skips a beat and he almost forgets he has to get to the stage.  _ After, _ he promises himself. After, he’s going to do something about this crush. He’s just so genuinely happy and grateful for Otabek’s help that his feelings for him are overflowing, and he feels like he can ask Otabek out without any kind of shame. He wants to, he really does. If Otabek says no, it’ll be embarrassing for a while, but nothing Yuri can’t handle, right?

 

Yuri unzips his hoodie and walks to the center of the stage. 

 

There’s a silence. Everyone’s expecting the soft, melancholic  string-violins and an outfit to match that. Yuri smiles, because he sees everyone’s jaws drop at the sight of him. Viktor and Yakov’s literally. No-one has seen him in these kind of clothes before.

 

Yuri smirks and gives the person who’s responsible for the music a signal to start. It’s going to take a few seconds before the song starts. Yuri uses the time to glance at the intrigued faces of the headhunters, sports reporters and his fellow dancers. Fuck, this feels good. 

 

The song starts.

 

It’s loud, unrelenting. Otabek edited the song enough to fit the timeframe they were given, which meant that he edited off every softer part of the song, the intro that was meant to lure the listener in. No, it was full-on, ear-wringing blast, and Yuri can almost feel the audience retreat further into their seats. 

 

He goes for it. He dances his ass off, as they say. He uses his ballerina-like flexibility to create the perfect contradiction to the music. It looks alluring, he knows - Otabek recorded their final practise together. Yuri does his flips like he’s never done before - higher, stronger, more expressive. Otabek was right - the softer curves of his movement on top of the knife-cut precision of the timing works  _ perfectly. _

 

The song is cut from four minutes to a little over three, but it feels like a lot shorter. It’s barely a blink of an eye to Yuri. He’s got the stamina to dance through his performance without even a hint of exhaustion, but he’s still panting harder than ever when he stops. He’s surprised to notice he’s at the end of his performance, because he definitely got lost in the flow during it.  He knows his face is wearing that unattractive flush, but he doesn’t care. It feels fucking amazing.

 

He’s  _ alive _ . So alive. 

 

Yuri doesn’t want to look at Yakov’s face, doesn’t want to look at anyone’s face. He’s feeling good and doesn’t want to stop feeling that anytime soon. He just bows and leaves the stage. He doesn’t even glance at the headhunters - he doesn’t feel like he needs to decipher anything from the looks on their faces. He’ll later know whether this was a hit or a flop. He suspects there will be a horde of people here soon, ready to scream Yuri’s ears off, but Yuri needs to see Otabek before it. 

 

Yuri peers into the back room with other dancers and doesn’t see Otabek there. He jogs into the room opposite from it. It’s a big, spacious room that works as a storage room, mostly. It’s always reminded Yuri of a theatre backstage, props hidden in the corners of it, high ceilings with light equipment. There are a few light technicians with a ladder fixing something, and there are black cords everywhere on the ground. 

 

Yuri sees Otabek on the other side of the room. He’s not surprised; Otabek has said that he needs space before performing, so of course he’d find a room where he wouldn’t need to interact with other dancers.

 

He laughs, loud and clear. “Otabek!” He screams and gets the boy’s attention. “I did it, did you fucking  _ see _ that?”

 

He starts running, dodging the thick cords on the floor, the maintenance crew around him. 

 

Then, well. It goes to shit, basically. 

 

People say it happens in slow-motion - the moment you realise something irreversible is about to happen. But in all honesty? It doesn't go like that  _ at all _ , but actually the other way round. 

 

The moment is so quick, so swift, that Yuri barely can dissect it; blink and you’ll miss it. He doesn’t even realise what’s happening. All he sees is Otabek looking alarmed and pale, and the boy literally drops his phone from his hand before he sprints towards Yuri.

 

He has time to widen his eyes, open his mouth and say: "Beka -" before he is pushed violently away, the strength of Otabek's shove emptying all the air from his lungs. After that, there's an awful crash, like a million champagne glasses falling from a tray. 

 

Yuri's head hurts, and he realises he's sideways on the floor, and there are people around him. His ears are ringing and he feels dizzy, his body still processing why it’s suddenly in this position. 

 

With effort, Yuri tries to understand what has happened. He lifts himself enough to look to his side, and - oh, fuck. Jesus christ, no. Fuck. 

 

What the  _ hell. _

 

Yuri scrambles to his feet. A prompter. A fucking prompter has fallen from the hands of the tech people, and _ Otabek is lying next to it _ . Yuri looks for blood, waits that a drop of blood is going to start expanding, expanding, expanding like paint, staining the floor.

 

It doesn't happen. 

 

What does happen, however, is that Yuri goes into full panic-mode.

 

"Beka?!" He practically screams. "What the fuck did you  _ do _ ?" 

 

Yuri crawls next to Otabek, stumbling a little. 

 

"What happened? Where are you hurt?" Yuri asks and pushes someone from his way. There are people around Otabek, yelling and urgent sounds, but Yuri can’t focus on them. 

 

Otabek is alive and breathing, but  _ fuck _ , he looks hurt. He’s panting through his teeth and there’s that fucking prompter those men tried to install, right on top of Otabek’s  _ leg. _

 

This can't be happening. Yuri wants to throw up. It's not good when Otabek's not screaming, is it? Or that there isn't any blood - that means he's in shock or something, and that his wounds are internal, right? Yuri's knowledge on emergencies isn't very good, but this is bad. Fuck, did the prompter fall on top of him? Why would - 

 

Yuri takes in the situation with a hitch of breath, the scene suddenly clear in front of his eyes. Otabek ran towards him because the prompter was going to fall on top of Yuri. 

 

This idiot boy  _ saved Yuri. _

 

Otabek takes a deep, shaky breath and says: “Mother _ fuck.”   _ He's keeping his eyes closed and Yuri sees a tear falling from the corner of his eye. "That fucking hurts,  _ jesus.” _

 

"Don't cry!" Yuri blurts out. He's being unreasonable, isn't he? He's - fuck, he feels faint. He's never seen Otabek cry - ever. The cacophony of the situation, seeing Otabek like this, hearing him like this - it's all making Yuri wrong-footed and panicky.

 

"Not crying", Otabek grits his teeth together, throws his hand over his eyes, then lets out a loud sob. "Might faint, though."

 

"Don't faint, either", Yuri says again and fuck, he's the worst at this, isn't he? "I was supposed to fucking date you, asshole, how am I going to do that if you're in the hospital?" 

 

Otabek doesn’t seem to register what he’s said, but in his defence, neither does Yuri - he doesn’t have much control over what he says, right now.

 

Otabek blinks open his eyes (they’re teary and glassy and oh god, Yuri doesn’t want him to look like that).There’s bustling  around him, loud, urgent voices and footsteps running around. Yuri isn’t able to do anything other than hold on to Otabek’s arm, unintentionally touching his wrist. Yuri can feel Otabek’s heart beating fast,  his pulse bumping against Yuri’s forefinger.

 

Somebody touches Yuri’s shoulder, and Yuri slaps the arm away. “Fuck off.” 

 

“Can’t do, mate”, the person answers, and unceremoniously lifts Yuri up enough to get to Otabek himself. Yuri stumbles onto his feet. His feet are numbs and his fingertips are cold and he feels like crying, which is stupid since it’s Otabek who’s lying on the floor. 

 

There are paramedics around him now. Three, in fact - thank god. They’re wearing alarming shades of orange and yellow, but Yuri has never seen anything so comforting in his goddam life. 

 

“Hello. What’s your name?” One paramedic asks as she leans in close to Otabek. 

 

“Otabek Altin, ma’am”, Otabek answers, and the paramedic chuckles. She touches Otabek’s face, neck, the tips of his fingers, asks questions in low voice, monotonically, calmly, and Otabek answers to each one without even stuttering.

 

"Alright, Otabek - we're going to lift you onto the stretcher,  are you ready?" The paramedic says, and Yuri and Otabek both reply, at the same time: "No." 

 

"Super", the paramedic says with a mild smile directed at Yuri, counts to three to her colleagues, and then they lift Otabek. 

 

Yuri wants to throw up. This is not how today was supposed to go, this is not how  _ life _ is supposed to go.

 

"Yuri", someone touches his shoulder. Yuri shakes the hand off, too busy watching Otabek taken away. It’s so dramatic and looks exactly like in a tv show. It’s ridiculous - of course tv shows are realistic and accurate, but Yuri can’t shake the bizarre feeling that he’s in a soap opera. His face flames up and his face stains in shocked, unwanted tears. 

 

"Yuri", the voice says again and Yuri snarls, starts following the paramedics. 

 

"No, silly, here", the voice says again and grips Yuri’s elbow. Yuri registers the voice as Yuuri’s. 

 

He shakes his head. "Let me-" 

 

"We're going to the hospital, too", Yuuri says. "They won't let you in that ambulance with Otabek, anyway. Come on, Yuri.” 

 

The reasoning isn't helping Yuri, whose mind is full of questions and  cold dread. 

 

"Is he - I need to go to him, I "- Yuri says as Yuuri walks him out of the room. There are people around them, loads of them, but Yuri has a hard time recognising any faces. 

 

"We'll get you there by car - let's hurry and we'll be there at the same time. Don't worry." 

 

Yuri doesn't actively fight back, but Yuuri has to drag him away anyway. 


	5. chapter 5

Yuri hates hospitals. 

 

He realises that now.

 

He's never liked them, but right now he fucking hates them. Everything about them makes his skin crawl.  The air - it’s still and smells of stale disinfectant. Yuri understands the air conditioning can't be very strong here, but he sort to wants to find the nearest window, open it and fill his lungs with fresh air with gasping gulps. It's never quiet. There's beeping everywhere. There are weird cords everywhere. It's awful. He can hear sounds, footsteps, the occasional sound he cannot place. The chair he's sitting on is squeaky and uncomfortable. 

 

And there's  _ Otabek on the hospital bed _ . He's sleeping now. It's probably good that he is, but it makes Yuri feel alone, so alone. Otabek looks frail and fragile like that - strings attached to his palm, injecting some sort of pain relief to his veins, in that godawful hospital gown. He's pale. 

 

Dread fills Yuri and he takes a deep breath, immediately regretting it because the smell makes him nauseous. 

 

He takes Otabek's hand into his, carefully like it's a rare flower to be protected and cherished.

 

At least he's alive. The doctor said that the operation went  _ well,  _ but that could mean anything, right?

 

After Yuuri and Viktor drove Yuri to the hospital, they found out that Otabek needed a surgery. There was nothing wrong with him besides his shin, but that needed an operation to heal - the bones had a fracture or something. It sounds bad and awful and painful, and Yuri feels  _ so bad _ . Yuuri and Viktor stayed with him as long as they could. Viktor tried to pull strings to get Otabek a private room while Yuuri got them all coffee and sandwiches to eat. Viktor fidgeted around, and, judging from his low tone, spoke to either Lilia or Yakov on the phone a couple of times. Yuuri patted Yuri on the back and walked him to the bathroom to wash up his makeup he’d already messed up by rubbing his eyes and face in frustration. 

 

They found out where Otabek would be transferred to after his surgery and situated themselves there. Yuri had to sit in that chair in the hallway for a few hours. He tried asking the nurse nearby for information, but he didn’t know anything, either. Viktor and Yuuri tried to coax him to leave, but Yuri wouldn’t budge, of course he wouldn’t. Yuuri unzipped the hoodie he’d worn himself and put in around Yuri’s shoulders. 

 

“Is there anything else we can do for you, Yurio?” Viktor asked. He sounded apologetic, but Yuri understood they had to leave. They had Maccachin waiting for them at home.

 

Yuri rubbed his eyes. “Just - can you tell everyone that I won’t be coming in tomorrow?” 

 

Yuri probably had rehearsals and other shit, but he didn’t remember any of that now. 

 

Viktor touched his hair - a rare occurrence of affection from him. “Of course. I’ll handle Yakov, and Yakov will handle Lilia”, he said. “We’ll come see you both later, okay?” 

 

Now, Yuri’s sitting next to Otabek. Otabek came back from the recovery room a few hours ago, but he’s been sleeping the whole time even though the anesthesia should have worn off by now. The nurses didn’t want anyone to go harass him now, but Yuri pleaded and pleaded and  _ pleaded _ , saying that he’d be quiet and that Otabek didn’t have anyone else in Russia and that he didn’t want him to wake up alone. A red-headed nurse named Kristina gave in and let Yuri in the room. 

 

Yuri sighs. He is exhausted in a way he’s never experienced before - his skin is buzzing and he feels alive, too alive, but at the same time his bones are like lead. He feels stretched thin.

 

He can’t complain, though. He’s not the one sitting in a hospital bed with a freshly operated leg. 

 

Yuri blinks. His eyes are sore and dry and he wants to rub them until the itch goes away.

 

The doctor that operated Otabek said that he had a fractures in his shin and that’s why they couldn’t just put him in a cast. They put bits of metal in his leg to get it to heal correctly. The doctor assured Yuri that the operation went as well as it could have, and that Yuri shouldn’t look so worried. Yuri told her that Otabek was a professional dancer. To that, the doctor didn’t comment on. She just said that Otabek will need physical therapy and a lot of rest once the cast is taken off.

 

But still.  _ Fuck _ . Yuri feels awful. There’s something black and ugly curling inside him. It makes his head hurt and chest feel so small it was impossible to breathe properly. He wants to cry. He wants to shout. He wants to go back in time and fling  _ himself _ under that prompter instead of Otabek. Or better yet, prevent himself from being a ridiculous drama queen who needs to change his choreography the night before performing.

 

Yuri winces. It’s fucking his fault - all of this. The exhilarated high from his performance has long ago vanished and the whole day barely feels real.

 

"When you wake up, I'm going to skin you alive", Yuri mutters to himself.

 

He touches the skin of Otabek’s knuckles, finds it cold and thin, like paper. It’s not Otabek,  _ this is not Otabek _ . Yuri presses his forehead against those knuckles, as if that could magically take away his headache. 

 

There’s a rustle of the paper-like sheets of the bed Yuri barely registers. 

 

“That’s a nice thing to wake up to”, a voice says slowly, gruffly, a voice of a person who’s just woken up and hasn’t talked in a long time. “Your bedside manners are awful.”

 

Yuri’s heart skips a beat and he flips his head up to Otabek.

 

“Well, I’m not your nurse”, he quips because if he doesn’t say something, he’s going to fling himself in Otabek’s arms and cry at the sheer relief of hearing his voice. 

 

Otabek is smiling, but it’s tired and crinkled at the edges. Yuri’s never seen anything so beautiful, though, and he basks in the fact that Otabek is  _ there _ , looking at him, present,  _ with him. _

 

“You should be, though. Much prettier. Less scary”, Otabek says and tries to change his position. Yuri doesn’t know how to help, doesn’t know whether Otabek would even appreciate help, so he just sits there uncomfortably and does nothing. 

 

“Less scary? Sorry, have we met?” Yuri huffs, ignoring the fact that Otabek calling him pretty makes him face flame red. “I’m the Ice Tiger of Russia.” 

 

Otabek huffs a little too, looks at him under his lashes. They’re long and look so white and delicate in the pale light of the hotel room.

 

“You’re not the person sticking needles into my arms and touching my pee-bag”, he says, and Yuri scrunches up his nose. 

 

“Sorry, I just don’t get off on that”, he says and reaches for the button that calls for a nurse. Otabek is awake, after all - he should be examined, right? 

 

Otabek leans back against the pillows. “Asshole”, he mumbles as they hear the footsteps of a nurse from the hallway. “I wanted to talk to you for a moment.”

 

Yuri's heart clenches. 

 

“Let the nice nurse change your pee-bag and then we can talk more”, Yuri says and pats Otabek’s leg - the healthy one. His touch lingers. 

 

“That’s a nice description of my job”, the nurse - the red-headed that let Yuri in the room, Kristina  - informs when she enters the room, and Otabek grins tiredly at her. The nurse comes round Otabek’s bed and starts tinkering with his IV. 

 

Yuri stands up, awkward. “Um, I’m going to get coffee”, he says uncertainly. He feels like an intruder, and he would appreciate some privacy if it was him in Otabek’s place. 

 

Otabek’s brows crease in confusion. “Will you come back?” 

 

Yuri nods. “Yes, just - giving you some privacy”, he says and leaves before Otabek can ask anything else. 

 

In all honesty, Yuri just needs a little bit of time to himself. He feels relieved now that Otabek is awake and Yuri can confirm he’s alright with his own eyes, but suddenly Yuri feels like the floodgates have opened. He wants to cry and the thudding in his chest won’t stop, no matter what he does. 

 

Yuri forgoes the cafeteria and heads outside for some fresh air. 

 

**

 

Otabek tries to shift his position. He looks at the cast in his right leg and sort of wants to poke it a little. He wouldn’t probably feel that, not with the all the pain-relief he’s getting at the moment. 

 

It feels alien, but that’s it. Otabek hasn’t ever been in a hospital properly. Once he broke his wrist, but that time he and dad just went to the ER and straight home from there. He’s never lied in a hospital bed like this. 

 

Otabek hears a thud, and he cranes his neck. It’s been almost an hour since Yuri left. Otabek reasoned himself that Yuri was probably getting something to eat, maybe go home to change clothes. He was still worried that he wasn’t going to return. 

 

Turns out it is Yuri returning. He has a coffee in his hand - not one of those generic, white takeaway cups they gave you at the hospital cafeterias, but a big, green one. So, Yuri took a walk. 

 

He looks absolutely  _ spooked,  _ though. Pale and tired, eyes red and wide open. 

 

“Did you bring any for me?” Otabek asks and point towards Yuri’s coffee. He doesn’t actually want to drink anything and he isn’t allowed either - he’s just trying to make conversation.  Yuri smiles and shakes his head. He looks sad and worn out. Otabek feels bad for him. 

 

“Sorry, not going to smuggle you coffee. You have a problem, did you know?” Yuri says, but it’s quiet. It’s clear to Otabek that he cried just a minute ago and he wants to gather the blond in his arms and hug him until he feels better. 

 

Yuri sits down next to Otabek’s bed.

 

“How do you feel?” Otabek asks, and Yuri’s eyes flash. He takes a sip of his coffee before setting in down onto a table. 

 

“What kind of question is that? I’m supposed to be asking _ you _ that”, he argues, but his voice is doing the thing where it’s stretched thin and clear like crystal, the voice he uses when he’s stressed out and tired. Yuri seems to realise this himself too, because he clears his throat and frowns, eyes in his lap. “So how  _ do _ you feel?”

 

A wet sniff escapes Yuri.  

 

“I’m fine”, Otabek says and when Yuri huffs, continues: “Honestly! This wasn’t how I planned my day, but all in all? I feel okay. You don’t have to worry, Yura.” 

 

Yuri nods, and a few hairs slid to cover his face. Otabek wants to brush them back behind his ear to see his face again. 

 

Otabek touches Yuri’s hand instead, and it feels significant. Yuri looks like he wants to cry. Otabek feels bad, too. He’s wanted to hold Yuri’s hand for so long, but he didn’t imagine that the first time it happens would be in a hospital. 

 

“You’re upset”, Otabek observes carefully. “Why?” 

 

Yuri huffs and can’t quite stop a flood of angry tears from escaping from the corners of his eyes as he finally locks his eyes with Otabek’s. “ _ Why _ ? Otabek, I think I’ve just ruined your entire life by being ignorant and not looking where I go!” 

 

Otabek sighs, but it’s more of a sympathetic sigh rather than frustrated. “Is that how you see it? It was an  _ accident _ , and I did what I could. I prefer this alternative to you getting crushed under a prompter, actually.” 

 

“But now it’s  _ you _ who got crushed under it!” Yuri says, voice rising a little. He clears his throat and tries again, quieter: “It’s not okay, Beka.”

 

“These things happen, Yuri. It’s not your fault”, Otabek says. He tries to sound as reassuring as he can, because the last thing he ever wants is to make Yuri feel like it’s his fault.

 

Yuri falls quiet for a moment. His thumb brushes against Otabek’s knuckles.  "Prince Charming", he mumbles.

 

Otabek laughs. "What?"

 

Yuri runs his other hand through his hair.  "You're Prince Charming", he says again. 

 

"And you're sleep deprived", Otabek observes.

 

"I'm not some princess who needs saving”, Yuri argues and pulls his hand from Otabek’s. Otabek instantly misses the warmth. 

 

"I know that", Otabek says slowly. "But of course I was going to try and save you, you donkey. I wouldn’t be much of a person if I didn’t do that."

 

"You're just like that", Yuri says, louder. "You construct your self-worth around how much you sacrifice for other people." His voice gets caught in his throat a little. 

 

"You think that's what this is?" Otabek asks, raising a brow. "Me, sacrificing my leg and career for you?"

 

"Don't make fun of me.” 

 

"It's just a broken leg, Yuri", Otabek reassures. He desperately wants to touch Yuri, to calm him down and hold him, but Yuri has wound his hands around his middle and he’s sitting as far as he can in that uncomfortable leather chair. 

 

"What if", Yuri says. His voice is small and thin like paper.  "What if - what if you -" 

 

Otabek lifts himself higher on the bed. “No.” 

 

"But-"

 

"I mean it", Otabek says. Yuri snaps his mouth shut. "I know you worry, but I need you to stop.  _ I _ need it. Right now, I'm feeling hopeful. Whether things work out or not, I have...Well, plans for future. In one way or another.” 

 

Yuri flushes red.  "I didn't mean to make you doubt anything, Beka. I just -”, he swallows. “You’re so bright and so good, and I -” 

 

He stops and shakes his head. 

 

Otabek gets Yuri, he really does. He’d feel just as bad if it was Yuri lying in the hospital bed like he is. But Yuri doesn’t know how  _ lost _ Otabek has been for the past year. Doesn’t know what it is like to do the thing you’ve worked for for that past ten years, and feel  _ nothing _ . He doesn’t want to promote himself to get work offers, doesn’t want to  _ constantly _ push himself towards something he doesn’t even know. It’s frustrating when the thing he used to love becomes a chore. 

 

Otabek loves dancing, but doing that as a profession is killing him. Otabek hoped that starting fresh in a new country would give him a semblance of control, add some newness to it. Don’t get him wrong - being around Yuri and his dancing is a true pleasure and he’s enjoyed being with him. But that’s  _ it _ . He’d  enjoy being with Yuri anywhere. It’s not about the dancing. Otabek wants to continue dancing with Yuri, watch him practise and talk technique with him. He just doesn’t want to have that as a career for himself anymore. 

 

Otabek is stubborn - he’s always been. That’s why he hasn’t wanted to throw away his career just because it doesn’t feel right. He’s not going to tell Yuri that a broken leg gives him a possibility to take some time off, gather his thought and maybe start planning something else for his future if it turns out that his leg won’t handle something as physical as dancing everyday. 

 

“This is faith, in some ways”, he says instead. 

 

“What is?” 

 

“Well. I told you I’d protect you, right?” Otabek clarifies. It’s a joke, of course, but it holds symbolism. They started their journey a long time ago, and there were  _ so many ways _ they could have missed each other. If his Facebook hadn’t spammed him with an ad to this dance agency in St. Petersburg, he wouldn’t have applied there. If the tyres of his motorbike hadn’t been changed and the repaired said “you can ride it 5000 kilometers all the way to Russia and back without even a hint of deterioration, bro”, Otabek wouldn’t have thought of a prolonged and possibly permanent road trip to somewhere, to leave Kazakhstan. If he hadn’t seen that interview about Yuri, he wouldn’t have remembered the whole boy. 

 

It’s all just a big series of coincidences, he knows, but right now it feels like the stars aligned.

 

He feels on track, somehow. 

 

Otabek raises his brow. “Didn’t I?” He asks again when Yuri doesn’t answer. 

 

At this, Yuri’s hand flies to his neck, where the locket hanging and Otabek sees him remembering Otabek’s promise from over ten years ago. 

 

“You’re an idiot. A monumental, fucking idiot”, Yuri says, but Otabek can see a flush spreading to his sharp cheekbones. 

 

“But it’s true.”

 

“That you’re an idiot?” 

 

“Hah - yes, that too. But I’m going to keep you safe, alright?” 

 

Yuri's blush reaches past the point where it's faint. He has two blotches of red on both of his cheeks, and he looks  _ wild _ . 

 

"Why do you have to say shit like that?" He sighs and avoids Otabek's gaze, biting his lips and looking down. 

 

"Like what?" 

 

"Like - that!" Yuri shrugs his shoulder violently and flips his head up. His eyes are shiny and he looks like he's holding back tears again. 

 

“Don’t cry, Yura. I’m just -”, Otabek pauses. “I’m just trying to tell you that I do not  _ care _ about having a broken leg it it means I can spend time with you, okay?” 

 

Yuri makes a tiny sound, something akin to confusion and overwhelment.  Then he sort of lunges forward, like a cat, and kisses him. 

 

_ Kisses him.  _

 

Otabek gasps against his mouth. Yuri plants his palms against Otabek’s chest for support because he threatens to stumble and fall into his lap. That would be completely fine with Otabek any other time, but right now he can’t exactly hold Yuri’s weight, with the broken leg and all. The kiss is hasty and uncoordinated and hardly romantic; they both probably have bad breath and Otabek’s unshaved stubble is rubbing against Yuri’s cheeks that are salty with tear-stains. But it’s perfect because it’s Yuri.

 

“Otabek, I -” Yuri says and stops, tries to correct his posture. “I’m sorry!” 

 

“Why would you be sorry?” 

 

“Well - I wanted to ask you out first”, Yuri confesses. “Take you out, maybe as friends, then maybe a real date with, like, candles or some romantic shit. But then you say things like that and I - am I wrong? Do you feel the same, or - ” Yuri babbles.

 

Otabek can’t help but laugh and Yuri looks hurt. “No, sorry, don’t look like that! It’s just - you’ve already asked me out once.” 

 

“What? When?” 

 

“When we were waiting for the ambulance. You were pretty mad”, Otabek reminds him, voice clear with laughter.

 

Yuri blinks before his mouth curls up in a goofy smile. “Oh. right, I did do that, didn’t I?” He shifts a little, awkwardly still crouching half on top of Otabek. “I was so frustrated that you would do something that stupid just when I had found the courage to ask you out.” 

 

Yuri’s fingers trace Otabek’s arm, carefully avoiding the place where his IV is placed. “You never gave me an answer, though.” 

 

Otabek grins and wishes he had better mobility at the moment because he’d love to lean forward and kiss Yuri breathless again. . “Well, it will be a while before I can go anywhere with this leg, but I’m more than happy to snog you on your couch until that time.” 

 

“And then you’ll take me somewhere on your motorbike, right? I’ve been dying to try that”, Yuri teases, and something in Otabek’s chest eases. 

 

Otabek thinks,  _ screw my leg _ . He gathers Yuri in his arms and pulls him closer despite the small hospital bed. 

 

“Anything you want, Yura.” 

 

Otabek breathes in and  feels the wheels in his brain slowing down. He feels like he can close his eyes now and not feel like there’s a constant weight on top of his chest, a voice in his head that says he needs to keep going despite feeling tired. He finally has time to figure himself out, and he has Yuri by his side. 

  
  


** 

  
  


When Kristina the nurse returns an hour later to check on Otabek and finds Yuri squeezed next to Otabek’s side on that narrow bed and sees that both of the boys are asleep, she turns around at the door. She’s not supposed to let visitors do that - Yuri might accidentally kick Otabek’s broken leg or rip the IV or do something equally as bad, but she decides to give them 15 minutes of peace together. They look like they need it. 

[](http://s1376.photobucket.com/user/yourplisetsky/media/tumblr_messaging_oq2tfjxvbf1tebvcn_1280_zpsynfadye3.jpg.html)

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to check my artist’s tumblr @ archester-draws! <3 
> 
> Special thanks to my amazing beta and professional lifesaver happydraco, as well as kirinvlinder and rayraywrites and meimaginofor motivating me to finish this! <3 
> 
>  
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ [dotingdamen](http://www.dotingdamen.tumblr.com) <3 !
> 
> Feel free to drop comments, I’d love to hear what you thought!


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